


The Due Penalty For Their Error

by sophia_sol



Series: Paulslash 'verse [1]
Category: Bible (New Testament)
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Religion, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/pseuds/sophia_sol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul tries to reconcile his feelings and his faith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Due Penalty For Their Error

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, huge thanks to my wonderful beta, sentientcitizen; all remaining stupidity is my own. Secondly, this story should be perfectly understandable to a person who isn't familiar with Paul's tempestuous relationship with the Corinthian church. However, if you are curious as to how the events of this story fit into the canon, you can go to my LJ post [here](http://sophia-sol.livejournal.com/8246.html) to read a very tl;dr explanation of the relevant circumstances. Otherwise, just read on.

Paul put his pen down with a sigh, and crossed the room towards his bed. This was not working. Thoughts kept chasing through his mind, distracting him when he was trying to do his work. How was he to write an appropriate, godly letter to the Romans when ungodly things were all he could think of?

He sprawled on his bed and buried his face in his arms, wishing that this day, this week, this month was over. He longed to be gone, travelling again, out spreading the good news and joy of Jesus Christ. He didn't even mind that he had to go to Jerusalem next, facing those saints and their possible disapproval. After that he would be free - free to go wherever he wished. He was thinking maybe Spain. At least that would be far away.

A soft knock came at the door, and he hurriedly sat up and straightened himself out, schooling his expression into one of attentiveness. "Come in," he called, and the door opened. Paul's face relaxed into a smile. "Ah, Stephanas," he said. "It's good to see you. What can I do for you?"

Stephanas grimaced. "I'm sorry to bother you. It's such a small thing, Paul, and I know you're busy, but..."

Shaking his head, Paul said, "No, go on! I'm a little stalled at the moment anyways, and I'm always happy to help."

"Right. Well, I'm afraid it's my youngest two. They _will_ go on baiting Primus, though I've explained often enough that Primus has renounced his sinfulness and been forgiven! Would you talk to them?"

With a great force of will, Paul managed to keep himself from flopping back down on his bed in despair. Of _course_ it would be about Primus. Because his life was never simple.

He stood up instead, and told Stephanas, "Of course I'll speak to them. Where are they?"

"In the courtyard," Stephanas replied. "I'll leave you to it, wouldn't want to get in the way. They just don't _respect_ me anymore. And they used to be such godly youngsters!"

Paul resisted the urge to sigh; Stephanas was a good man, but he could be so dramatic sometimes. Instead Paul merely nodded, and followed Stephanas out the door.

Gaius and Amatus were where Stephanas had said, in the courtyard, slouched on a bench and laughing with each other. When Paul was close enough for them to hear his approach, though, they quickly solemned and sat straighter, to Paul's secret pleasure. It showed they had respect for him, and if they had respect then they would listen.

But as soon as Paul had explained what he'd come to talk about, that illusion was gone. "Primus," Amatus sneered. "Of course you'd be here to stand up for your lo-" He cut off as Gaius elbowed him in the ribs.

Dismayed, Paul fought to keep his composure. So even now this rumour was following him? After all he had done to try to keep his good reputation? And _Primus_, surely Primus had atoned and more! But it was no use thinking about it. Best to be stern and impersonal in this regard. Primus was nothing to him but a brother in Christ, and he had to remember that.

With these thoughts fortifying him, Paul sternly gave the boys to understand that their behaviour towards Primus was not to be tolerated.

Somehow, though, Paul didn't think he was getting through to either boy; the eyerolls were a strong hint. He needed to make sure they realized their actions were wrong but he just – couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. Everything was all mixed up. He needed to get his head on straight, and he needed to calm down, and he needed to get over this whole _problem_ he was having. With a final admonition to the sullen faces in front of him, he turned and walked away, towards his workroom again where he could –

Sometimes, if he didn't know better, Paul could almost think God hated him.

"Hello, Primus," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

"Good to see you too, Paul." There was a slight edge to Primus' voice. Paul worked very hard to ignore the thought that said, _Primus is upset at me! I have to fix it!_

"I'm afraid I'm very busy right now, and I can't stick around and chat. I'm very sorry," Paul said, beginning to edge away. Hopefully Primus would be sensible, get the hint, and let him go.

But Primus replied with, "Oh, how's the letter coming along then?" And he actually looked _interested_, stepping closer with a smile growing on his face. He always had loved talking theology, which Paul used to appreciate. But now it was less than helpful, because Paul knew if he got started talking, the two of them would end up debating until dinnertime. And how was Paul supposed to keep a professional distance from Primus, if Primus kept drawing him in?

So Paul tossed off a quick, "Very well, thank you, but I really must go," and hurried down the hall. He knew perfectly well that he was running away like a coward, but he couldn't handle talking to Primus for any longer. He couldn't keep his focus, he couldn't remember the more important things in life; when he was with Primus it was only Primus he thought about. And that was dangerous.

* * *

Paul sat at his writing desk, scratching away industriously. It wasn't going _well_, precisely, but at least he was getting words down. It was the ideas that were important: he had to make sure he was saying everything he was intending to. He could always edit later for clarity and flow.

When a knock came at the door he pushed aside his writing thankfully.

It was Primus.

Suddenly Paul wasn't so thankful anymore. He pulled his letter towards him again and stared down at it for a moment, before finally looking back up at Primus. "Yes?" he said, unwilling to be rude yet again. Then he clenched his mouth, afraid that if he said more he would betray his nerves – no, his anger. Or was it something else?

He blinked in surprise when he noticed that Primus had come in and sat down while Paul was occupied in debating his own emotions, and hoped Primus hadn't noticed his momentary distraction.

"I just wanted the chance to talk to you, for once," Primus said.

Paul resisted the urge to run far, far away.

"I mean," Primus continued, "You've been back in Corinth for how long already? And seeing you coming in from the courtyard a week ago was the only time we've exchanged more than two words that whole time! I know that I – I know I shouldn't have done what I did, last time you were here, but you said in your letter that I had been forgiven." He leaned forward in his chair, one hand pressing down on Paul's desk in an aborted reaching gesture. Paul closed his eyes, just for a moment, to maintain his control.

Primus went on, "So if I'm forgiven, why won't you talk to me? Must I be treated like a leper the rest of my days? I had hoped that we could be something like friends, at least."

Oh, Primus. Always the braver one. Always trying to do the right thing. Paul didn't deserve to be friends with such a man. But Paul was weak, and with Primus sitting in front of him with that look on his face, Paul couldn't say no. He knew it was a bad idea, and yet –

"Yes," said Paul. "Of course. You're right. I've been, well, behaving badly to you, I know. I just – I – " Paul broke off, unsure of how to continue.

"You just what?"

"I was a coward and I'm sorry and I know I don't deserve your friendship." The words tumbled out in a rush, before Paul could even think to censor them. But Primus had always brought out that side in him, the side that didn't care what impression he made as an Apostle of Christ, the side that just wanted Primus to know everything about him.

"I still love you, you know," Primus said.

Paul's thoughts stopped abruptly. "What?" he managed. He picked up his pen and fiddled with it, looking down.

"I still love you. Even if you think you don't deserve my friendship, that's not going to change. I love you."

Paul carefully set the pen down, and took a breath. Then he took another breath. Then he looked up again, a pleading look in his eyes. "Please don't say that," he said, the words barely making it past his lips. How could Primus be doing this to him again?

"I'm not asking to enact depraved acts with you," Primus said. "Love can exist apart from desires of the flesh."

"I _know_," Paul said, suddenly angry. He pushed himself back from the desk and jumped up. Pacing forward, he said, "Don't you think I've tried? Last time I was here, when you – I can't get it out of my head. It's all I can think of when I'm near you! It's why I've been avoiding you! I'm a coward, yes, but I'm a coward because I don't trust my ability to resist my unnatural desires. And I would like to be friends with you, dearly, but I don't know if I even can!"

He threw himself back into his chair and slumped down, feeling entirely pitiable and entirely defeated. Some apostle he was.

When he felt Primus' hand on his shoulder, Paul didn't move, didn't look up. "Just...go away," he said. "Please."

A few moments later Paul heard the door of his room close. He didn't move. He didn't move for the rest of the night.

* * *

Paul sat at his desk, savagely editing the manuscript of his letter. He had to get it right, get it perfect. He had to make sure that anybody reading it would be able to clearly understand the correct courses of action for a moral and happy Christian life. Even if he was doomed to misery, at least he could help others find peace.


End file.
